The Temporal Time Conundrum
by FightingKentuckian
Summary: Wendy finds herself being drug through various historical periods by the Middleman while on the trail of a rogue time traveler. The threat of being lost in time, along with issues revolving around her personal life, it's just another average day in the life of a Middleman-in-training.
1. Middleman Who

Wendy Watson tossed and turned in her bed that resided in the illegal sublet that she rented with another photogenic, young artist. It was about 4:30 pm, Perth, Australia time. Sleep did not come easy to her this night. It may have been the meatless, Vegan meatloaf from Lacey's dinner, but the recent fight she had with Tyler was the more likely candidate. These types of things didn't usually bother Wendy, but this was the first real fight in the otherwise perfect relationship. As she tried to force sleep, the details of it kept playing through her head. Tyler was still the newest big cheese in Fat Boy Industries, Minservant's right hand man. Wendy's supported his new career as best she could, she convinced herself as she tossed one more time, her black hair matted to the pillow, but the fact that Mr. Neville wanted to take Tyler to Luftballoon, Germany for a new 5 year Fat Boy start-up was more than Wendy Watson was willing to allow. She made that opinion known earlier that night in the kitchen/art studio. Tyler did what any good boyfriend does and agreed with her, but insisted it wasn't best for his health to turn down the offer either. After a half hour of fuming battle the war was delayed on account of a stalemate, which led to the sleepless night Wendy was having. After reviewing in her head what she said about 10 more times the drowsiness of sleep overtook her worry and finally Dub-Dub found some peace that night.

It didn't last long, only a few hours into a vivid dream came the unmistakable ring of the Middlewatch and the subtle light of morning peeking through the sublet window blinds. Groaning, Wendy extended a slender arm from under the sheet and pulled the watch from its roost on the end table. The Middleman's square jaw appeared on the watch face with the push of a button.

"Up'n'at'em Dubby. Duty calls." His stately voice was quick with the order. Wendy's reply was not so quick, but more of a barely comprehensible groan.

"Can't 'duty' just leave a voicemail?" she sighed as she sunk her head as deep as she could into her pillow.

"Be at HQ in 20. The world needs saving." He lectured over the speaker. Once the boss hung up, Wendy issued another distasteful groan to the fluffy pillow. Her slim build labored out of bed as if it were a half ton truck.

"When doesn't the world need saving? Answer me that one boss." She muttered to herself as she pulled on a pair of semi clean blue jeans. Black socks tiptoeing down the stairs were able to avoid alerting the still slumbering Lacey and Noser across the hall. The Mini-Middlemobile was waiting outside for its drowsy driver.

The Middle HQ was a buzz of techno sounds and blinky lights. By the time Wendy buttoned up the last button on her olive green vest, her boss and Ida were already deep in discussion next to the HAYDAR. They both saw Wendy Watson walk in with a yawn spreading across her face.

"Don't breathe too deeply," Ida warned the Middleman cynically, "might get her second hand high."

"Shouldn't you be in the middle of some calibrations, C-3PO?" Wendy shot right back to the indifferent android. The Middleman seemed oblivious as usual to the ladies' banter as he entered the conversation with his polite tone.

"Ah. Good morning Dubby. I hope you are well rested. We've got an investigation." Wendy walked up next to him, staring at the silver answer ball.

"What's today's mystery?" Wendy asked, a little bit of childish excitement tainting her voice. The Middleman turned to face his apprentice.

"Not sure yet. HAYDAR's reporting a particle anomaly at a farm outside of town."

"Just an anomaly of particles? Isn't O2STK usually interested in more pressing issues, like when some evil scientist tries to sell his solar powered death ray to the highest bidder?" Wendy wasn't thrilled with the low-key assignment.

"Sorry I can't send you to your death today, sweet cakes. Really, I am." Ida teased while being ignored.

"Dubby, even the subtlest of scientific improbabilities should be investigated. What starts as a small atomic level hiccup today could become a 4th dimensional black hole tomorrow." The Middleman straightened up the black tie hiding under the drab green Eisenhower jacket.

"Today's Middleman life lesson everyone." Wendy was disappointed in her tone of voice. Her sour disposition was noticed by the boss, who furrowed his brow both in concern and disapproval,

"Yes, it's very important. Diligence is the Middleman's best preventative weapon." Wendy rolled her eyes a little as she listened to his lecture.

"Alright," she waved her arms up, "let's go look at some particles." Wendy huffed and started off towards the Middle-Garage. The Middleman looked at Ida with a confused scowl. The cranky schoolmarm offered no sage words in return, just a shoulder shrug. Soon the regular din of machines was all that filled the Middle HQ after the sound of the Middleman's combat boots thudded out of earshot. By the time the Middleman had reached the door of the '68 Ford Fairlane 500 that served as the Middlemobile Wendy was seated on the passenger side, running her fingers through the waves of shoulder length black hair. He sat down behind the steering wheel, but didn't set the engine a roar, he instead just looked at his brooding partner.

"What's bothering you Dubby? You are more than welcome to confide in me, Middleman-to-Middleman trainee." He tried to consul her.

"It's nothing. Let's just go check out this distorted farm or whatever." Wendy tried to act focused on the job.

"Dubby," The Middleman smiled sheepishly, "Keeping deep personal issues bottled up effects your duties, not to mention the possible long term psychological effects."

"Isn't that what your heroes Grace Kelly or John Wayne would do? Just leave their feelings buried under all their machoism to get the job done?" she tried to dodge talking about the troubles that recently kept her up all night.

"Sure, I respect the rugged individualism and honesty they represent, but those were characters they played in movies…." The Middleman trailed off, hoping Wendy would pick up with whatever was on her chest. His hope went unanswered. The key turned in the ignition with a defeated huff from its driver.

The Middlemobile pulled into Old Man McGucket Farms around 1100 hours GMT. Dust wafted up from the tires on the dirt drive. The two Middleman started out of the black muscle car, BTRS scanners looking for the disturbance's origin.

"Are you sure you do not wish to discuss what is bothering you?" The Middleman asked sheepishly once again after an hour and a half car ride where the only voice heard was Hank Williams on the radio. Staring at her device's blinky lights, Wendy sighed realizing the boss was right and it may do her good to tell someone. She finally spilt the beans in a defeated tone,

"Tyler and I had our first fight yesterday…"

"Oh." Middleman's hushed reply as he looked up from his scanner.

"Yeah, the 'glorious' Minservant Neville wants to drag Tyler all the way to Germany for 5 years."

"Well, peaches'n'cream Dubby, that sounds like something to celebrate. Mr. Neville seems to trust Tyler with greater responsibilities." The Middleman tried to spin her troubles positively.

"And I am really happy for him. He's been doing so well and I've supported him the best I can. Do you know, I've never even asked him what he actually does as Fat Boy's second in command?" Wendy asked that last question with high pitched assuredness. "But I don't want to have to play long distance with him for 5 years. Those never work you know."

"And what does Mr. Ford think about all this?" her boss replied as if he was her arbitrator. Wendy rolled her eyes a bit as she went on,

"Well, he realizes that saying 'no' to Minservant doesn't accomplish much, but he doesn't seem too defiant about the relocation. He knows I can't go with him, cause of, well…" she waved her hand towards her boss.

"Yes, a Middleman abroad could prove useful, but you are nowhere near ready to operate on your own." Middleman pondered the possibilities.

"What am I going to do then?" Wendy honestly asked. A look of deep thought expressed itself on the Middleman's face as he split his attention between his trainee's personal dilemma and the task at hand.

"I'm not sure I have an answer for you Dubby?" the BTRS scanner started to whiz wildly, "I do, however, have an answer to our current conundrum." He waved the scanner around the area, a small tool shed near the hog barn, and deciphered the readings, "This is definitely our particle anomaly." He examined the readout further, "Hmm, the air around here is highly concentrated with Galifreyian particles." He took a minute to connect the dots, "Colonel Sander's Chicken," he exclaimed under his breath, "You know what that means? We have a time traveler on our hand." A quick glance showed the shed full of nothing but settled dirt and old tools.

"Hey!" came a shout from across the farm. The two investigators looked up from their 'crime scene' to see an old farmer marching across the grass while buttoning up a pair of blue overalls, "What are y'all doing here?" he asked in a not so pleasant manner. The Middlemen faced him with calm demeanor as they threw up a pair of fake badges.

"Dr. Tennant, this is my apprentice Dr. Capaldi. We're with the Department of Agriculture." The Middleman rattled it off like clockwork.

"We're conducting random soil samples of local farms. What is your percentage of ground to fertilizer?" Wendy asked to shift some of the conversation's momentum towards the farmer. He stopped his charge and scratched his salt'n'pepper beard hesitantly and spoke in a confused tone,

"Oh, ain't you supposed to warn us when yer doing this?"

"That's why we call them 'random'." Wendy shot back with sass. The famer pouted his lip and squinted eyes long wrinkled by years of hard labor.

"Well, how long you folks gonna be?"

"We were actually just leaving sir." The Middleman spoke up as he subtly ushered Wendy Watson onward, "We'll run the tests and send you a soil report within the week." The farmer didn't say much, just stared at the duo with a look of befuddlement.

Rubber was tearing up the road as the black Ford made the long trek back to Middle HQ. "Time travelers are a real pain in my neck, Dubby. The whole notion of time travel is as complicated as a beehive full of hornets. The Middlemen have had few encounters with those versed in the art of manipulating time. I've dealt with my share back in '99, '01, '06, and '11." The boss informed his protégé. Wendy responded with a curious look,

"Sounds like you've dealt with several of them on a pretty regular basis?"

"That was all the same delinquent." He looked towards Wendy with a teacher's look, "You do understand the basics of time travel, right?" She looked back at him with an unamused expression. "It's okay to ask questions Dubby." His words tried to fight her facial cue, unsuccessfully.

"You are so helpful it hurts sometimes." She sneered humorously. The Middleman simply smiled awkwardly.

"When we get back to HQ we'll run some tests, see if any more particles have been agitated in history recently." That statement did get Wendy's attention.

"The HAYDAR can scan all of time?" she asked with that childish wonderment again.

"That silver ball can do that and other functions that we don't always use on a daily operating basis." Her wonderment for that magic answer machine only increased. "Hopefully it can give us an idea of where our no-good Johnny Timehopper is." The thrill of a new case and the Patsy Cline humming out of the radio under the Middleman's call to Ida made Wendy forget her dilemma with Tyler, at least for the moment.


	2. The Time-Snatchers

They made it back to HQ around 2pm Pacific Time Zone. Ida was already halfway through her search when the two walked through the threshold. The Middleman was quick to her side,

"What's coming down the wire, Ida?" she didn't turn away from the HAYDAR as she issued her answer,

"I've pinpointed one cluster of Galifreyian particles that were recently agitated." The Middleman walked over to the wall of lamps and turned a series of them off, "Looks like your time traveler is currently in the 1950s." with a final click of a lamp a nearby wall slide open, revealing a shallow alcove. The Middleman walked over to it, motioning for Wendy,

"Then that's where we'll confront him." He handed a leather belt with an oversized silver pocket watch serving as the buckle to her, "Here, Wendy. Buckle this around your waist." Wendy hesitantly accepted it and threw the belt around her thin waist.

"We've really got to discuss the lack of fashion sense around here." She quipped while pulling the tails of her green vest over the belt. The Middleman pretended to not hear the comment, instead fiddling with a dial on the wall.

"Hang on, Dubby." Came his order as he flipped a switch. A great beam of white light engulfed the two with most haste, lightning crackling out of the illumination. One stray bolt crashed into the HAYDAR. It shorted out the machine and sent a wave of juice through the wires Ida was hooked to. When the commotion had settled to normalcy, the Middlemen had disappeared and Ida lay on the floor, her hair standing on its ends.

…

The two Middlemen found themselves standing on a quaint suburban street; 1500 hours, 1954. While Wendy took a minute to collect herself after that ordeal, her boss raised his Middle-Watch to his square jaw,

"Ida, we've made it here," he looked at his frazzled apprentice, "mostly unscathed." He released the button, waiting for Ida's reply, but he was met with silence, "Ida? Ida, do you copy?" While he tried to reach the cranky schoolmarm, Wendy took a moment to examine her current attire.

"Why am I in a poodle skirt?" she threw her arms up in surprised disgust. The Middleman was too preoccupied to answer. After a few moments of intently staring at his watch, the Middleman turned back towards his protégé.

"Fudge sickles, Dubby. I think Ida was put out of commission by the time machine. I told her it was dangerous to stand so close to exposed erratic electrical expulsions." She only half-heard his statement, instead waving her arms up and down her person to draw attention to the pink poodle skirt and white blouse.

"What is this?" she asked with an angered whisper through clenched teeth. The Middleman simply raised his eyebrows in preparation for a lecture,

"You see Wendy, the WATCH accommodates…" before he continued he could predict the question about to leave her lips, now adorned by ruby red lipstick, "Wright's Automatic Time Changing Harness." He took a pause before continuing, "It is set to mask us in period appropriate garb, to avoid raising suspicion or alter the timeline." Wendy dropped her arms to her side with a defeated huff.

"So, apparently I'm on my way to the Enchantment under the Sea dance. How come you don't look any different?" she pointed to the fact he was still clad in his drab green Eisenhower jacket. This caused her boss to stand up straight, adjusting the coat on his shoulders.

"This is a timeless look, Dubby." He said with pride, "And it's the 1950s, the war had just ended, and this would still be in fashion." Wendy Watson rolled her eyes and started to walk down the street,

"Let's just find our perp and get out of here."

The seemingly picture perfect town was a bustle with life; boys delivering papers by bicycle, men mowing lawn, the smell of dinner wafting out of open kitchen windows. They found their directions by following the signal traced by the BTRS scanner.

"Doesn't this place seem rather pleasant?" The Middleman was taken up in the jolly mood this place seemed to produce.

"Yeah, I love the prospect of staying home all day, standing in front of a stove. Just waiting for the giant ants to bust in and eat me." she grumbled in a dry, sardonic tone. This wiped the cheerful look from his face,

"Well, yes. That doesn't sound as pleasant." He slumped his head back towards his scanner in defeat, "Here." He pointed towards a long stretch of road out of town, "The path leads that way."

"Looks like we need to catch a ride." Wendy noted, then set her sights on a nearby Hudson Hornet being washed in a driveway. She grabbed the Middleman's sleeve and led him over to the car's owner.

"Hello, I'm Ms. Hines and this is Mr. Howard. We'd like to talk to you today about your future. Are you prepared for it?" the man looked up from his car and released his grip on the garden hose nozzle. His perturbed gaze set on the imposing Middleman,

"What's she talking about?" he asked with an annoyed tone.

"What my, um…" he took a minute to think on his improve, "secretary, meant to say was, 'Are you prepared for the possibility of total nuclear annihilation?" This threating question turned the man's mood from sour to dour. "Oh, yes. It's a real threat. The Communists are looking for an excuse to push the big, red button." This put the man into a nervous frenzy,

"What should I do? How can I save my family? How much money does it cost? Can you turn my house into some impenetrable vault?" the Middleman raised a comforting hand to silence the man's ranting.

"What you need is the best in high quality car parts. We can outfit this beautiful baby blue," motioning to the Hornet, "with the latest in nuclear deflection technology. It will allow your family to survive any Soviet plot and be mobile."

"If you'll just let us take your vehicle to our specialists we'll have it back to you by the end of the day." Wendy interjected, extending a palm, motioning for the keys with a finger wiggle. The man threw the keys at them with no hesitation, then ran into the house at a terrified pace. The two Middlemen climbed into the car, following the trail of time residue.

"Secretary?" Wendy asked with a smile of disbelief. The Middleman shrugged before answering,

"I had to make it believable given our current time period. I meant no offense, Dubby. You know I value you as a respected member of the Middle-Team." She leaned back on the bench seat,

"Yeah, never ask me to file papers for you though, or that's it." Her smile now honest.

They had left the suburb behind them some time ago and the scenery had turn into an empty desert spotted with Joshua trees.

"The scanner says turn left." Wendy Watson had been keeping an eye on the tracker as the Middleman drove through the now blistering heat, "Ugh, why couldn't we have travelled to the Ice Age?" she uttered, dabbing sweat from her brow with the sash tied around her waist. The Middleman looked at her with an eyebrow raised in curiosity, "There's no air conditioning in this thing."

"I hadn't realized." He returned.

"I can see the sweat staining your collar." She called him out.

"I have learned to ignore extreme weather conditions, a skill learned from Sensei Ping." He went back to focusing on the road to make the left turn, "but yes, it is rather hot out." The left turn took them off of the paved road and onto a gravel path. Soon their car ride was ended at a fence that ran across the desert. The Middleman got out, Wendy at his heels. She looked at the gate that stood in front of them,

"Well, this just got interesting." The sarcastic remark referencing a metal sign hanging on the fence reading 'Area 51'. The Middleman only grimaced. He walked back over the car and rested on the hood. He rubbed his chin with his left hand, then tried to reach Ida again on the Middle-Watch. The connection continued to ring with no answer from the other side. As he stood there looking at his watch, Wendy grabbed the Middle-gun, which was tucked away in her purple waist sash and blasted the lock off of the gate, causing the chain link door to fly open. "I want out of this poodle skirt soon" she sternly asserted as she marched back to the car. Her boss only looked on in shock,

"Wendy Watson, we cannot break into an instillation of the United States Airforce." He stated fiercely. His apprentice addressed him from the open window of the Hudson,

"We lie our way into crime scenes all the time." He, in turn, leaned against the window frame poking his head into the cab,

"This is beyond waving some fake badges. If we get caught," he paused as his face took on a somber expression, "are you familiar with Fiji guano torture?" the images running through Wendy's head of what that meant crinkled her nose. "Not to mention how much effect this would have on the fabric of time." Trying to remove the images, Wendy replied back,

"Wait, is this going to be one of those plots were we were actually the aliens captured at Area 51?" the question asked with a cocked eyebrow.

"Don't be ridiculous, Dubby. I've seen the aliens kept at Area 51. They bare no resembles to you." He climbed back into the driver seat, internally deciding to take advantage of the open door. "As a matter of fact, Mr. Shumway is quite the conversationalist." The super-secret base seemed to be rather empty, not a building in sight.

"Huh? I expected the mysterious Area 51 to be more… impressive." Wendy exclaimed as she looked out the open window, the breeze throwing her hair back from her head.

"Area 51 wouldn't be a very good secret if it was 'impressive'," returned the Middleman's stately voice, "No, most of the facility is underneath our very tires." This new bit of info caused Wendy to poke her head out the window and stare at the ground passing under them.

"Whoa." She said in a hushed breath to herself, "just like Disneyworld." When she looked back up, her gaze caught a tower in the distance. "What's that out there?" the Middleman looked over that direction.

"Where we are heading." He responded while consulting the scanner. Veering off the gravel road and into the dirt, the structure loomed higher as the Hudson pulled closer. It was revealed to be a launch pad for an atomic bomb test. Parking the car, the two approached the nuclear ordinance with an eye on the Middleman's BTRS scanner. Wendy gazed around the metal beams, examining the bomb hanging by a sturdy steel cord.

"Where's a lead-lined fridge when you need it?" she commented as her gaze settled at the top of the tower. What she beheld caused her to alert her mentor, "Hey, look up there. Is that a man?" He reacted with a scanner raised on the figure.

"Yep, and the trail stops at him." He then turned to address the man, "You, up there, stop!" There was no answer as the man seemed to ignore the order. Before they could begin to formulate a plan, a siren broke the ambient silence of the desert with a rousing blare. The figure on top of the tower disappeared in a flash of blue light which seemed to coincide with the bomb starting a slow fall down the steel tension cable. "Oh phooey." Swore the Middleman quietly. Not long after that they both leaped into the car, throwing the gas pedal against the floor. Hesitantly looking back as the bomb neared its rendezvous with the earth, Wendy asserted with a nervous tone,

"I don't think this car can go 88 miles an hour, Doc." But it fell on deaf ears, as the Middleman was focused on alternatively his belt and the road.

"Dubby, I need you to focus." She hung on his every word, "Set your WATCH to jump onto the nearest time stream disruption." The bomb connected, sending up a bright light accompanied by sound and fury. Wendy fiddled at the belt buckle as the shockwave approached the car,

"How do I do that?" she yelled over the noise. Her boss yelled back as his hands, removed completely from the wheel, tinkered with his own WATCH.

"Just turn the top knob a quarter turn and press down on it." She followed the instructions as the first wave of dust hit the car. Both clicked down on the button and zapped away in a wave of white light as the nuclear fire engulfed the speeding car.


	3. Public Enemy One O'clock

They found themselves rolling across a street, tumbling to a stop when they finally hit a sidewalk. The Middleman pulled himself up and extended a hand to help up Wendy. They looked around the bustling city sidewalk they found themselves on.

"So now where are we?" Wendy she questioned as she got back to her feet. The Middleman helped dust her off as he replied,

"The better question is, 'when' are…" he was quickly cut off by Wendy smacking away his helpful hand and sticking a pointed finger at his face,

"Don't you dare. That is the lamest time-travel joke there is." His squared face seemed concerned,

"That is no joke, Dubby. When dealing with the complexities of time travel, knowing one's current year is of upmost importance." He lectured his young student. All he got in return was a typical Wendy Watson eye roll. The two then took a keener interest in their surroundings, "We appear to be in the 1920s." the Middleman deduced as he noted the fact Wendy was now dressed as a typical young flapper, with a matching dull purple dress and hat, while he was now clad in a black zoot suit with accompanying fedora. She continued the job of dusting herself off that the Middleman had started.

"Well, at least we can't have another nuke dropped on us."

"Don't become complacent, Dubby. There is still plenty of danger here, especially when we're dealing with…"

"… a rogue time-traveler." She finished his sentence in an annoyed tone, "I know. I know." The Middleman huffed a tight heave and then turned to his watch,

"Ida. Do you copy?" he started his verbal hails again. This caused Wendy to realize she hadn't called Tyler yet today. She pulled out her phone from the small cloth purse. She clicked his name on the contact list and held the phone to her ear. Even if the last time they spoke was a fight, she could use an update from him to bring some perspective into her turbulent day. She was greeted not with the sound of a ringing phone, but the sharp beep of a 'no signal' tone. Taking a break from his attempts, Wendy's boss saw her trying to call out. "1920s Wendy, there are no cell towers yet." She sighed in anger, stuffing the phone into her purse.

"Then how do you think you can call Ida?" she asked in opposition. He dropped the watch to reply properly,

"The Middle-Watch is a quantum entanglement communicator. We always have a line back to the Middle HQ as long as you have the watch." He then tried one final hail for Ida that went expectedly unanswered. "Mines of Solomon." He exclaimed in disappointment, "Well, we still have a criminal to catch."

….

During the Middlemen's time in the Prohibition Era, Ida finally rebooted back to consciousness on the floor of the Middle HQ. Running a hand through her frizzled hair she picked herself off the floor, she walked over to the HAYDAR. The silver ball was emitting puffs of smoke and exposed wires hung from opened panels.

"Ugh, they don't pay me enough." She griped to herself as she started repairing the malfunctioning equipment. Her gaze took a glance at the Interrodroid standing in the corner with that blank stare. "Well, we don't have all day. Grab a broom. Clean up this mess." She ordered it around with an inconsolable voice.

…

The two Middlemen wandered into a nearby storefront to get off the busy streets full of hurried people. It turned out they found themselves in a soda shop. There was a free spot at the bar where they could rest their elbows. The soda jerk approached the two waiting for their orders, the Middleman went first,

"Hey there daddy-o, real swell joint you've got here." His attempt to speak the lingo caused Wendy to place a palm on her face, "I'd really enjoy a nice glass of cow squirt." The barman eyed the two patrons for a moment, then spoke in a grumbly tone,

"Alright, you's two fallow me." He came out from behind the bar and led them to a door near the back with a sign stating, "Janitorial supplies". After opening the door, the three stood in a room larger than most janitor closets, even if it was full of mops and metal pails. The barman rolled a barrel aside and lifted the hatch in the floor it exposed. He motioned his hand towards the descending ladder, "Haff a good time." Wendy shot a worried stare at the Middleman that he reciprocated, but both quickly decided to enter the dark hole to avoid suspicion. Once they both hit the bottom, the soda jerk closed the hatch and they listened as the barrel was rolled back on top of it. The two walked across the only available doorway where they found themselves in a lantern-lit room. Tables scattered the floor and another barman stood behind a tall oak counter. All of the patrons seemed to be imbibing spirits.

"Ghosts of Hamlet! We're in a speak-easy, Dubby." She was already leaving the side of her boss as this realization donned on him.

"Cool." Was her one word reply. She went up to the bar and asked the man for a shot of whiskey. As the man poured out the small shot from an unlabeled glass bottle, the Middleman bolted to the side of his trainee.

"Dubby, we are still on a mission. The fate of time doesn't have 'time' for this." Wendy daintily took the shot between her thumb and pointer finger.

"How often can you say 'I drank in a real speak-easy'?" she posed the question before ingesting the burning liquor, but her boss seemed none the more swayed.

"Alcohol impairs judgement, Dubby. And gosh darned it, I need you on your best game for this assignment." Unfortunately the bartender happened to overhear the Middleman's comments.

"Whoa, you some kinda government spook?" he said in a decibel loud enough to be heard by the drinkers in the bar. A dead silence fell across the room as they awaited an answer. The Middleman hesitated for a second, Wendy's face that like of a deer in the headlights,

"Ah, no. He meant 'assignment' as in, we're on a job, to…. taste all the local liquors for a judging contest." She half-babbled out as a knee jerk answer.

"Yeah, my cool cat. We are searching for the best rotgut around." The Middleman finally input with cheesy slang. These answers didn't appease the suspicious man, nor the skeptical room. Not taking his eyes off the two in question, the whiskey slinger reached for a bottle under the counter and poured a shot on the bar. He pushed the overflowing glass towards the striped sleeve of the Middleman's zoot suit.

"Go ahead, give it a try then." This was issued more as a dare, less than a request. The Middleman picked up the glass in his hand and looked at it as if he could think it out of existence. All the time, the barman's brow furrowed farther and a cold sweat beaded on Wendy's smooth face. Before the shot glass touched his stiff upper lip a new patron entered the illegal bar. He quickly identified the two people under scrutiny and uttered a quick angry yell.

"Hey, it's you!" this caused the whole room to erupt into a fury with shouts and tables being overturned.

"They're revenuers! Get them!" The duo focused on the man who shouted at them and followed him out of the bar while dodging flying bottles and stray punches. They made it to the passage and chased the mysterious man up the ladder to the soda shop. The three of them burst across the otherwise peaceful restaurant. Wendy reached the stranger first and tackled him out of the door and onto the hard sidewalk outside. Her forearm pinning the man's head to the ground, she hollered to her boss as he caught up,

"Hey, I've got him." But as the Middleman stood next to her prone figure, he slowly raised his hands.

"We've got bigger problems, Dubby." He warned her from his position. She looked up from the target to see three men lording over her. One tugging on a big cigar, the other two leveling Thompson machine guns at them.

"Oh phooey." She wittily remarked. The middle figure dropped his cigar to the sidewalk, nearly singeing the stranger's cheek.

"Toss'em in the car boys." The two men prodded the Middleman into a nearby Ford Model A, then returned to pick Wendy and her target off the ground. All three were stuffed into the cramped back seat.

"Just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in." Wendy muttered to herself. The car ride remained silent for the rest of the way. The driver finally pulled off the road next to an alley. With more prodding from the barrel of the Tommy guns, the three found themselves marching down the alley until they were nice and out of sight. Before Wendy, the Middleman, and the stranger knew it their hands were bound behind them with a length of rope tied to an exterior pipe. The cigar man had started smoking a new stogie before he addressed his captives,

"So, why did I happen to find you three rushing from the boss' establishment after I hear shouts of 'government spooks'?" he asked them sent a thick puff of smoke into the Middleman's face. The straight-shooting hero coughed horribly as the sickly smoke entered his lungs. "That could give a fella the wrong idea about you folks." This time he moved to send the puff of smoke into the stranger's face, "The boss usually wants me to question squares like you? Gathering intel about the enemy, he calls it, but," he took another long puff on the stogie and the smoke billowed out of his nose, "I'm in a bit of a hurry today." He turned to his two goons, "Waste'em boys." They looked at their boss,

"Duh, what about the girl, boss?" he looked back at Wendy, scanning up and down her figure with a sickly grin,

"I'll let you boys decide." He answered them as he headed back to wait at the Model A. As the two goons looked dumbfounded at each other, Wendy wriggled her hands around inside the rope knots until she could access her Middle-Watch.

"Hey, big goomba." She said in a sweet voice, one of the hired thugs looked at her, "Yeah, you come here." The goon complied and the Middleman just looked at her with an odd mix of worry and curiosity. "I do you a favor and then maybe one day, and that day may never come, I'll call upon you to do to a service," she clicked the laser 'on' on her Middle-Watch and it made quick work of the rope. And it was just quick enough as the mobster had come into range. Her arms flew out in front of her, sending a karate chop into his neck and a leg sweep dropped him onto his face unconscious, his gun sending out a messy flurry of inaccurate bullets. The second soldato began to raise his gun, but with the push of a button a small tazer probe launched from Wendy's watch and into his forehead. The jolt of electric hunched him over in pain. "Until that day, accept this as a gift." She quipped as she kicked him in his family jewels. With the two goons dispatched, she went to untie her boss. They huddled around the third hostage, but didn't undo his restraints. The Middleman ran his scanner over the stranger, it began to whiz like crazy.

"Well, well. Dubby, this is our no-good chrono-bandit right here." She looked at the rather portly man with a sneer,

"Is that so?" she bit her lip devilishly, "I think we owe him for dropping a nuke on us." This caused the man to struggle, his orange whiskers shaking on his face as if they had a mind their own. The Middleman kept his face stern as he responded,

"First, I'd like to know a name and a reason?" he have the sweaty man a chance to speak, and he took the opportunity heartily,

"I'm Jasper Caldwell the 7th. I've been trying to right some wrongs." This caused an eyebrow to raise itself on the Middleman's stone mug. "My family has had nothing but bad luck for generations, and I was finally presented with a way to fix it."

"Explain bad luck?" Wendy demanded as she straightened up her flapper hat, it had become offset during her scuffle. Caldwell took a deep breath before expanding on the topic.

"Whenever a Caldwell was on the verge of success fate would intervene and send us plummeting back to the bottom." He explained in his voice much more nasally than would be expected from a hefty man.

"So, you tried to set a nuke off to what erase your problems?"

"My father, Jasper Caldwell the 6th was a promising scientist at Area 51 until someone accused him of being a Communist during the test of that atomic bomb. Then he got demoted to gardener. With no money, he couldn't afford to send me to college. So, I made the bomb go off early." He said this with great conviction, the Middleman stayed quiet, silently assessing all that was happening, so Wendy continued the investigation,

"Okay, now why are we here in the Roaring 20s?" He fidgeted some more, fighting to get free but seemed unsuccessful.

"My great grandfather, Jasper Caldwell,"

"The 4th?" Wendy guessed.

"Yes. He was the best rumrunner in the state, but he got taken care off by some mobsters when he'd visit that speak-easy later tonight." After this explanation, the Middleman finally spoke up.

"Unfortunately, the wheels of justice must turn just as the wheels of time do. We're taking you back to our correct time period." He started to approach the man, but Jasper busted out from his restraints and ran away. He pulled up his sleeve to reveal an arm bracer glowing with scientific delight. He punched a few of the buttons as the Middlemen chased him down the alley. Before they could catch him, he whizzed away in a flash of blue light. Their momentum stopped when they bumped into wise guy's Model A. He stuck his head out the window as the two heroes tinkered with their WATCH belts.

"Five shots? Five shots and you're still alive!" he exclaimed while watching them disappear into a crack of white light.


End file.
